Warning Sign
by Tribbith
Summary: Finn tries to forget that she ever existed, but he doesn't realise that he's fading away too.
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers for 'Special Education' if you haven't seen that yet. I need to get this out of my system before I continue with Jigsaw, but since this isn't going to be an overly long fic, I'll add a new chapter of my other one as soon as I can. Reviews are greatly appreciated!  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee which is a bit of a bummer. The song lyrics are from Three Days Grace 'I Hate Everything About You'. There's also a few instances of strong language.  
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A year is a long time. Babies are born, friendships are made, songs are sung and hearts are ripped out and trampled on by those who claim to love you.

Finn had hoped, had hoped so much that he actually thought he had a lucky star or something, that he was going to have a good year. He'd dealt with so much crap that things _had_ to get better, and they had, for a while.

He scrolls angrily through the music on his iPod, trying to find some angsty, whiny shit to drown his sorrows in; he has little to choose from since he tries to have an optimistic outlook on life.

One song catches his attention and it makes the back of his eyes burn and his mouth become insanely dry.

"I hate everything about you," he says slowly, curious to hear the words come from his own lips. It was one of those songs that he'd heard in the background of some TV show, and after catching a few of the lyrics, he'd Googled it and bam, new song added to his collection.

He doesn't want to apply it to her, honestly he doesn't. Has she hurt him? Fuck yes. Does he love her? Of course. Does he hate her? He can't answer that. He knows what hate feels like, that burning sensation that feels like indigestion but ten times worse, because it burnt him whenever he saw Quinn carrying someone else's baby, and it burnt him whenever he saw Puck strutting around school, and it burnt him whenever he saw Jesse and her.

He tries not to call her by her name because just hearing or thinking it makes him feel like absolute crap, and he _really_ doesn't need that.

So is it hate? When he passes her in the hallway and sees her avoiding his gaze, does he feel the burning sensation?

He feels a burn alright, but he doesn't think it's hate; how could he ever hate her?

The lyrics still sting. He loves music that expresses good feelings, but to hear his inner anguish played to him through his headphones... he'll never get used to that.

But this song isn't the one he can cry to and punch things to and sleep to because even now he's not sure he hates her.

'_I hate everything about you; why do I love you?'_

No, he can't hate her.

_Are we a part of something special, you and me?_

He asks her that because he needs her to know how he feels; he needs her to know that he still cares for her, regardless of the mess with Santana.

And she says yes. She stands there, looking at him like she genuinely gives a fuck, and she says yes.

_No more lying... ever._

He says that because he wants to prove that _he_ is going to be a better boyfriend, that _he_ is more committed than he's been before, that _he_ is the one that is in the wrong, even if he still thinks she is overreacting. He isn't talking about her, because she is the one who is honest and perfect and committed and always right.

_There's something that I need to tell you._

He should have left there and then. He should have made his excuses because her face was solemn and her voice was weak and the words that were ringing in his ears didn't sound like something he wanted to hear.

But like a lovesick idiot he followed her, because it was _her_, and what could she possibly say that he didn't want to listen to?

_Last week when we were fighting I was so mad at you, and I was so hurt, that I wanted to make you feel as bad as I felt._

It's too late to run, because she's stuck some kind of fish hook in his heart that's pulling him towards her, and if he tries to escape, it only hurts him more.

And then she tells him about Puck, and his eyes blur, his words blur, her pretty little face blurs into one big burning ball of pain and shock and rage and he feels like he's been betrayed by his own _mother_ or something because it's that bad. The girl in front of him is his safety net, his best friend, his true fucking love, and she's supposed to _know_ him.

But she doesn't know him at all. She doesn't know him in the _slightest_ because she cheated on him with the one person that has already hurt him before, and she should _know_ that it would kill him inside.

He wants to cry. He wants to fall on the floor and sob like a baby when he sees tears in her eyes.

_You said you'd never break up with me!_

And it hurts. It hurts because he wants to wrap her in his arms and he wants to apologise and he wants her to apologise and he wants to do so many things.

_I never thought you'd make me feel like this._

It's done now. He's sitting in his shitty little bedroom, listening to music that is just floating over him numbly.

'_Every time we lie awake after every hit we take. Every feeling that I get but I haven't missed you yet'_

He slams his thumb against his iPod because he's sick of this song. In fact, he's sick of all music. Music is part of his soul, and since one half has been ripped out by her, he doesn't want to sing anymore, but that's out of the question.

Their song in the auditorium is difficult to deal with. All Finn wants to do is avoid her, but he's part of the glee club, and by its very definition, glee is about opening yourself up to joy. He's not sure why he remembers that, but it really stuck with him after he read it on the choir room wall, and he's pretty sure that it means he can't sulk and hide away from everyone else.

Besides, he has to stay strong. He has to show her that he's okay without her, no matter how much of a joke that is. He smiles like he's enjoying himself, and in the moment, he guesses that he is. He finds himself holding hands with Quinn and dancing with Santana and he feels Puck's arm across his shoulders and it's a strange, uncomfortable flashback of the guy he used to be, before her.

He manages a believable smile, and he manages a believable sense of enjoyment, but then she looks at him sadly and he remembers that he isn't having fun at all. He doesn't feel like part of the family anymore. He doesn't feel like _anything_.

He's the first to leave the auditorium when his smile wavers. He shouts some excuse about the dentist, but he knows that no one believes him, especially not her. Mr Schue can suck it if he thinks glee's more important at the minute. Finn thought that he cared about them as individuals, but all he seems to care about is the music.

Finn's mom is worried, that much is obvious. She's supposed to be distracted with the new house and the new husband and the new happiness in her life, but she's worried for him. He appreciates it normally, because his mom means everything to him.

Now he doesn't want her pity. He doesn't need her to ask him if he's doing okay, and he doesn't need her to ask him if he's feeling better, and he certainly doesn't need her to mention _her_ name over dinner; he can't even apologise to Burt when he runs from the table, his heart stuck in his throat.

He kind of wishes that the situation was reversed. He kind of wishes that he was the one that cheated on her, because then he'd have a goal in life to try and win her back, to try and regain her trust.

But what he has is much worse. He has the constant knowledge that she cheated on him. He broke it off, and he could take her back so easily, but he'd always worry that she was going to do it again.

He knows he did the same thing with Quinn. He was dating her, and he kissed _her_ more than once. He hates himself for that now, but his only defence is that _she_ has always been 'the one', not Quinn.

It's little consolation now when one tiny act results in a complete breakdown of his self confidence. It takes a lot of guts to be the quarterback and the co-captain of glee, and combined with the pressures of regular teenage experiences, Finn was struggling with his load in life.

And then she helped him. She told him that he was the hottest guy in school. She made him believe that some kind of happiness existed. Now he wants to quit the football team, and he wants to quit glee.

It's never going to end is it? Every time he gets a solo he's going to have to stand in front of people who will judge him and pity him while they fuck around with their own lives, not really caring about his.

And every time he gets a solo he's going to feel her eyes on him, those sad, beautiful eyes that he misses so much right now.

He falls asleep in the bathroom. Normally, being found by his mom, half naked in the shower, would be mortifying. She helps him up, and he just accepts that this is it from now on; exhaustion, depression, and an inability to care. He wonders how one tiny little girl can make such a big impact on everything, and then he only has to remember why he loves her, and he falls into an even deeper funk.

He lays in his bed, wishing that when he wakes up, the girl he worships, the girl who idolises, the girl he trusted, would just disappear. He forgets her name as he sleeps.

Finn doesn't quit football or glee. He wants to, because anytime he tries to focus on the ball, or the lyrics, he blanks out. Coach Beiste almost has a heart attack when she screams at him for missing his pass. Mr Schue gives him that disappointed look when he misses his cue.

Finn doesn't give a fuck. He just nods, pretends to take their criticism onboard, then makes the same mistakes. They're not mistakes though, because he's purposefully giving up. He's a mess, and he knows that she shouldn't have such a big impact on him, but he's in a downward spiral now. He feels like he's being sucked into a whirlpool, and he just doesn't have the energy to fight the current anymore.

**A/N: **I promise it'll get better from here. It was going to be a one-shot, but since I have something planned out in my head, it might go up to five chapters or so. My response to 'Special Education'? I cried and moped and died a little inside. Here's hoping the two of them manage to work things out :'(


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel knows what's happening all too perfectly. She's watching him crumble from a distance, and she knows, knows more than he'll ever understand, what he's feeling, because she's feeling it too. She feels it when she wakes up in the morning. She feels it when she arrives at school and doesn't see him by her locker. She feels it when she panics about her bare neck, only to realise that she's no longer wearing his name against her skin. She feels it when she sees him eating alone at lunch, an uneaten apple his only companion.

She doesn't call him by his name, in conversation or in her head. She'll only grant herself that luxury when she's been forgiven.

Rachel Berry doesn't have the option of giving in, because that's never been who she is. She wavers now and again, but when it comes down to it, she's nothing but persistent.

She's shot an arrow through her own heart while aiming solely for his, and she feels the wound all the time. She knows that it won't heal without a fight. Of course, she could try and rid herself of him completely, start afresh, forget his name, and she would eventually get over him, give or take a few years. She'd move on, and she'd never have to think of him again (like it'd be that easy).

But she refuses to do that. She survives on the parallels of the past year. She recalls the moment he broke up with her, the moment she vowed to never forgive him, and the moment he told her he loved her. He never gave up on her, and for a few blissful months, they were happy together.

She wants this more than anything. She wants to be strong enough to fight for them, their love, him, even if it takes weeks, months, or years. Rachel doesn't do anything by halves, and she's determined to win him back.

God knows he's hurting, because she's hurting too. She's lost in a snowstorm. He was the person she'd lean on, and she was his support. She knows he'll be bottling it up, unable to confide in anyone about how he's feeling. One day she may have basked in the glory of being his only confidant, his only exception, but she doesn't have time for silly metaphorical trophies. She has a goal to work for, even if it means giving up everything else in her life. Mercedes can take every single solo if she can just have him back.

She starts with small gestures, because she's biding her time, testing the water. She needs to see his reaction to what she's planned, because she has to prepare for the worse outcome possible.

She slips a photo into his locker when she knows he's at football practice. She still knows his combination, and as she pulls back the metallic door, she feels a cold pang of fresh guilt in her stomach when she sees how baron his locker has become. He didn't have the words Rachel 4 ever plastered on the door, but he did have a photo of the two of them, and he did have a scrap of worthless paper, framed and hanging inside it proudly; it was her autograph, given to him at the beginning of summer.

They've gone now. Nothing has taken their place but emptiness that chokes her like a ghostly hand around her neck. She fights back her tears because she didn't expect things to be easy, and thinks about hiding the photo in his Spanish textbook. She knows he has a lot of trouble with the language, and his book is his bible.

She plants a soft kiss against the picture. It was taken in the park on some insignificant night, but the two of them look happy and goofy and normal, and she knows that it'll hurt him at first. She hopes he doesn't burn it since that's her only copy; she still trusts him with her life, and with her favourite photo.

She wants to write a message on the back (she wants to write a novel) but she resists, and simply places the picture inside his book, leaving before they cross paths. She doesn't seem him watching her, but she does find the photo in her locker the next day. He hasn't defaced it, he hasn't ripped it in half, but he hasn't kept it. Rachel doesn't worry. She knows, just from this small gesture, that he doesn't hate her. When Jesse broke up with her, she wanted him to pay; it looks like _he_ just wants to lick his wounds.

She's not going to give up. In some twisted way, she's thankful for the chance to prove to him how much she cares, because she has a _lot_ planned to win him back.

Actually, that's not true. It isn't about being a couple anymore. It's about love, and it always has been; she's just lost sight of that, along with everything else around her. She hurries through the halls so that she can go home and work on the next part of the plan, and when she sees Noah Puckerman looking guiltily at her from his truck, she suddenly remembers what else she's feeling; dirty.

**A/N:** Thanks for the brilliant feedback on the first chapter! I'm going to have this fic wrapped up and finished before Tuesday, and therefore, the chapters won't be particularly long. Reviews are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Santana wants him. Finn hasn't been paying much attention to anything at the minute, but he_ has_ seen Santana eying him up and licking her lips. She's even text him a few times, but he doesn't pay much attention to his cell phone anymore. He's not interested; she should know that by now. She's super hot, but so are other people, much nicer people, _her._ He's not going to be interested in anyone for a while.

He's seen Puck lurking in the background too. They used to be best friends, the very fucking best, but that's a non-issue now. He doesn't punch him like the first time, though he's sure a part of him wants to. Finn knows that Puck stopped her from going too far, and again, he wishes the roles were reversed; he wishes that he came onto her, and that she told him to stop.

He doesn't punch Puck because he doesn't think he can lift his fist high enough; his muscles seem to have given up.

He finds another photo in his locker that knocks the breath out of his lungs and winds him for the rest of the day. The first one made him cry; the second one makes him lose it during Spanish class. Mr Schue ushers him out and tries to get something out of him, but when all he can manage is an insincere nothing, he finds himself in Miss Pillsbury's office, a tissue box dangling in front of his face. She starts to babble on about something he's not interested in, though he makes an effort to listen because he thinks that she might actually be able to help him; she's been kind in the past. He feels some semblance of hope when she talks about her own experiences with a guy who cheated on her (he wonders if she's talking about Mr Schue), and he feels like he has a proper shoulder to cry on.

But then she mentions _her _name, and she suggests that maybe they were both to blame, and Finn has never been more tempted to shout at a teacher before. He storms out from her office; she doesn't understand at all.

He misses the rest of Spanish class and skips US history straight after it. He sits in the auditorium, staring at the drum kit that's been left, as if it's some kind of sign. He walks over to it, sits himself down, adjusts the position of the instrument, and raises the drumsticks in the air.

He can't even hit a fucking drum with a stick, and he realises that things are getting pretty messed up, worse than he expected. His mom has mentioned the word therapist a few times, but he's not even seventeen years old, and he knows that he'll just be laughed at; what kind of teenage boy gives up on life because his girlfriend cheated on him?

He doesn't know the answer to that; she must have fucked him up pretty good.

"You're not eating," his mom says. She's appeared out of nowhere, or maybe she was always there; Finn's kind of distant from everything around him. He's only just realised that he's in his bedroom again.

"Yes I am," he replies, not taking his eyes off of the cowboys on his wall. He's going to miss his wallpaper when he moves in with the Hummels.

"Finn."

"I'm not eating," he says, more surprised than his mom about that admittance. He feels the bed dip, which means that she's sitting next to him, but he can't look at her; he's worried that the cowboys will ride off on their horses if he looks away for even a second. He associates the men with childhood games and fun and best friends and happiness, and he doesn't want to lose that.

He looks to his mom when he realises that he needs help, when he realises he's worried for the wallpaper. He's been in this exact position before. Last time he broke down over the sonogram; this time he breaks down because he's alone.

"You can get through this Finn," she whispers as she rocks him in her arms. He doesn't respond, because he can't admit it to her; he _can't _get through this because he refuses to. "You really love her don't you?"

He jumps out of her grasp, wounded, scared, and more than a little confused. "Of course I do."

She pats his huge hands with her small ones (not as small as _hers_), tears pooling in her eyes, and says "You probably always will Finn." He furrows his brow and wipes at his eyes. "You have two choices, and the first is probably the easiest to do."

"What is it?" he croaks. He wonders darkly if it involves a lot of painkillers and alcohol.

"You can move on from her."

He splutters in disbelief. He's been trying to do that, and he's never found anything so difficult. "That's what I'm doing, I-"

"You're clinging to her Finn. You need to smile and prove that you're stronger than this."

The concept of smiling seems to have been stolen from him. "What's my other option?"

His mom smiles, and Finn can see that it's effecting her too. "You can forgive her and take her back." He feels his heart hammer uncomfortably against his chest as his ears begin to ring. "It's going to be hard Finn, because trust is so important, but it can be done." She nods and wipes at her eyes with a tissue. "It can be done. It's up to you honey, but either way, you need to take care of yourself." She stands up, heads towards the door, then looks back at him. "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Finn manages a weak smile. "No thank you." His mom leaves disappointed but he's not going to be fixed so easily. He needs to take control of something, and if that means not eating, well, then he's fine with that.

He needs to sleep. His mom has left to spend the night at Kurt's house, and he promised he would be okay on his own. For a second, he forgets everything and picks up the phone, ready to call _her,_ to invite her to stay with him, and when he remembers, he has to wrap his arms around his body to stop himself from falling apart.

He hears a knock on the door, but doesn't move, and simply stares at his feet. They don't knock again, but Finn needs to check in case someone's planning to throw eggs at his house (he thinks of the time she got egged and he should take satisfaction in her misery, but it only hurts him more). He opens the door, and on the step sits a purple box, a handwritten note gracing the lid.

"_I hope you enjoy them_". He could recognise her handwriting out of thousands. It doesn't say his name, or hers, but he knows. He brings the box inside, and is tempted to throw it at the kitchen wall, but he doesn't, and takes a cautious look inside. Sugar cookies; they're still warm. Each one is shaped like a heart, adorned in pink icing, apart from one, which is broken down the middle. Finn holds the two halves of the heart together, and with his finger, he brushes the icing across the break until the cookie is whole again. If he was good with metaphors, he'd be able to relate that to him and her, but he's still not hungry, and he closes the box and leaves them on the counter. He wants to throw them away, but he decides to save them for his mom; he convinces himself this is the only reason.

**A/N: **Thanks again for the amazing feedback! Not much more to go on this now since my goal is to have it finished before the new episode. It's strange, but after writing about it, it's helping me cope a little better with the breakup; I don't think the writers of Glee have realised that there are more than the two of them in this relationship! :P Reviews are appreciated, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far; it's nice to know that I'm not the only one mourning the loss of Finchel :'(


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel gets a phone call from Carole Hummel the morning after her anonymous gift. A smile spreads across her face when _his _number appears on her cell, but when she hears his mom instead, she feels like crying, even if she actually loves Carole.

"Thank you for bringing the cookies round," she says lightly; Rachel has to strain to hear her.

"Oh, _you_ found them?"

"Actually, my grumpy son refused to talk about them, but he's mentioned your famous sugar cookies enough times for me to know that they were from you. That was a very sweet thing for you to do."

She wants to cry again. _He_ doesn't realise how lucky he is to have such an incredible mother. She'd hoped that they could share her in exchange for the love of her dads, but it doesn't really apply anymore.

"Well, if F- he won't eat them, I hope you enjoy them Mrs Hummel," she says, because she hasn't lost her politeness in everything that's happened.

She hears silence until "He still really cares for you Rachel. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but it's killing me to see him so broken."

Rachel's crying now. She's been on the verge of sobbing since she dreamt that the two of them were okay, but now the tears spill down her cheeks like they're never going to stop. "It's killing me too Mrs Hummel. I know I shouldn't have hurt him, but I promise I'm trying to make things right. I love him." She doesn't know why she tells her that, but she's secretly hoping that Carole will relay the message to her son; things can't get any worse.

"Stick with it honey. He's trying to fight against what he's feeling, but give him the chance to cool down. I'm not..." Rachel's breath hitches at the change in his mom's voice. "I'm not saying that what you did was right, but-"

"I know Mrs Hummel, I _know_, and if I could do things differently-" She cries again, and she can't even hide that from his mom.

"Rachel." Her voice has become firm, which makes Rachel straighten up, her sobs controlled. "Crying will only get you so far. If you love him then you'll have to stay strong. He might take a bit of convincing, but I promise you sweetie, you'll be okay. I'm kind of counting on it, because I bought the perfect dress for me to wear at your wedding."

She hiccups and smiles, a huge grin spreading across her face; her cheeks ache because she hasn't done _that_ in a while.

"Mrs Hummel?"

She hears a laugh on the other end of the phone. "Rachel, please, call me Carole."

She appreciates this more than she should, this trust that she's been given by his mother. "C-Carole... Thank you."

"For what honey?"

She presses a hand to her chest because her heart is hammering too fast. "For believing in us."

Rachel spends the next two days working on her biggest idea yet. It takes precedent over everything, and for the first time in the history of Rachel Berry, she forgets to complete a piece of homework; what's more shocking still is that she doesn't care. In the grand scheme of things, school is just school, and the grades won't matter if she's lonely for the rest of her life. She doesn't bother dwelling on her overdramatic tendencies because she has a job to do.

She works tirelessly to finish his gift. She's always prided herself on her creativity, and since she wants to make a good impression, she goes with a huge collage of love on the biggest piece of cardboard she could purchase. The lettering at the top takes her little under three hours, because when you need to write' Forever yours, Finchely', it has to be absolutely perfect.

She stares down at the hundreds of photographs that pepper her bedroom floor, and she wonders how she managed to get him to agree to so many. She remembers the first time his mom asked them to pose and smile, and he freaked out and refused until he was sure he didn't 'look like an ass'. Rachel didn't understand his reluctance, because he was one of those rare people that could be photographed sleeping and _still _manage to look phenomenal, and she smiles at this thought, because it's true; he _always_ looks phenomenal.

She places the photos strategically, categorising them by colour. Her goal is to make a rainbow as a metaphor for their situation. She hopes that he understands that through the rain and hard times in life, a beautiful rainbow can make everything good again, but she knows that he won't understand that; he just loves rainbows.

Rachel adds other things to the collage too. She's been searching online for all kinds of song lyrics, from timeless declarations of love to his favourite ballads, and she writes them in her careful scrawl, matching the colours to the photos, because it _has_ to be perfect.

_She comes in colours ev'rywhere; she combs her hair; she's like a rainbow_

_I'll be true, I'll be useful, I'll be cavalier, I'll be yours my dear, and I'll belong to you if you'll just let me through_

_Now here's the sun, come to dry the rain, warm my shoulders and relieve my pain. You're the one thing that I'm missing here; with you beside me I no longer fear_

_You make my head start spinning around, and all I can ever hear is the sound of your heart beating in my ears_

_Boy, you stand by me. I'm forever yours, faithfully_

She gathers so many lyrics, and soon she can't remember what any of the songs sound like, but that's okay; it means it's working.

But then she remembers why she's doing this in the first place. It may be fun to work on her project, to immerse herself in the idea of her and him, but it's because she cheated on him; she wasn't faithful in the slightest.

Her eyes burn as she stares down at the 'I'm sorry I'm a terrible human being' collage, and before she knows it, she's curled on her bed, hugging herself as she sobs. The whole incident has been such a blur. Her rationalisation for her unacceptable behaviour has disappeared amongst the drama of it all, and she doesn't remember her own selfish reasoning.

She knows what hurts the most though, and it has nothing to do with sex and first times and lies; it's him. She's used to be being berated and insulted, but he's supposed to stop that now, and he's supposed to stand up for her, but he didn't. He let the members of glee says those things, he let Santana say those things, he let Mr Schue say those things, and every time he failed to act, she felt another part of herself break and fall away.

She wonders if it's his stupid obsession with reputation that causes him to act like that. When they're alone, he's more than happy (_was _more than happy) to tell her over and over how much he loved her (she hiccups and wants to scream), how much she meant to him, how thankful he was to have her.

When they're around other people, it's as if he's embarrassed of her, and it's taken her this long to notice it.

_You used to be just sort of unlikable but now I pretty much feel like punching you every time you open your mouth._

He stays quiet. Sam smirks. Mr Schue pretends like he didn't hear anything and moves on, but she keeps a cool head because she needs to guarantee at least one solo for herself and a heart wrenching emotional duet for her and him.

He doesn't complain until she tells him to, but once he gets started she feels a proud warmth in her belly; _this_ is one of the reasons she loves him; he's just as passionate about singing, and their talent, as she is.

And then the truth spills out, and before she knows it, Rachel's had a failed counselling session with Miss Pillsbury and she's sitting in the green room before their sectionals' performance, and then Santana bares her claws and scratches her again like some wild cat.

_We all pretend to like you._

And then it's Puck that stands up for her, not _him, _and she really doesn't need things to get any worse.

She can't think about this now, because if she thinks about all of _his_ faults, and all of her faults, she's not going to have the confidence to present him with his gift. She returns to her collage, and through tear filled eyes, she watches as it comes together like a masterpiece.

Rachel walks down the halls with her work under her arm, the rainbow of photographs and song lyrics and stickers and gold stars flashing at everyone she passes. She knows that he visits his locker before lunch every day, so she waits for him, her heart fluttering like a butterfly whenever she thinks she's spotted him.

"Oh my _God_, you have got to be kidding me." She turns around with a squeak because she hadn't expected anyone other than him to talk to her (why would she? Everyone just pretends to like her), and she find herself staring into Santana's disgusted face. "What the hell is that?"

Rachel hides the collage behind her back, though its size makes it impossible to stow away completely, and she can see Santana sneering like she's just stood in something disgusting. "I fail to see how that's any of your business," she says quietly. She looks away from the girl who caused all of her problems, still trying to find _him_, when she feels her arms being tugged, and sees Santana gripping onto his gift.

"Oh, how cute, a sickly board of photos that remind you that no one loves you anymore. Berry, you are such a dork." The Cheerio pulls on it again, and Rachel pulls it back, because she doesn't need her to mock her work. "Let me see, hobbit!"

Rachel lets go because Santana's insult hits her with memories and flashbacks and a pain in her chest that won't go away. She doesn't react when she watches her collage being torn in half, photos scattering across the floor, golden stars fluttering in the air like snow. Her eyes fill with tears, and she notices that people have begun to gather around, brought together by her misery. She doesn't want attention. She just wants him, really needs _him_.

She sees him watching like the rest of them. He steps forward.

**A/N: **The final chapter will be up tomorrow before the make-or-break Christmas episode. There's not much to say apart from a **MASSIVE **thank you to each and every one of you who's read, reviewed, favourited and alerted this story. Yesterday, when I was replying to the reviews, I was smiling all the time because you're all so kind and supportive; it's lovely to be doing something you love while people compliment you, honestly. Thanks again, and I hope you can hang on in there until tomorrow! :) x

**Oh, edit edit edit: **The featured songs in order of appearance~

She's a Rainbow - The Rolling Stones

As Lovers Go - Dashboard Confessional

I'd Rather Be With You - Joshua Radin

Girlfriend - Daniel Bedingfield

Faithfully - Journey

**Double edit: **For some reason all the typos I corrected returned with a vengeance, so I've corrected them all again; darn technology! :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: **In my last chapter there were so many horrific typos that I'd actually corrected, but for some reason it didn't save the changes; I just want you to know that I _do_ proof read my stuff, honest! :)

Finn misses her attempts to get him to notice her. At first, the photos and the cookies and the sad faces drawn on his textbooks make him want to confront her once and for all, just to tell her to back off, but he realises that it would include actually talking to her, and he hasn't done that since they broke up.

But when she stops for whatever reason, he feels a new kind of pain; he wonders if she's given up, and while he should be thankful for that, he's not, not in the slightest.

What the hell does that mean?

He doesn't know what he's doing anymore (but let's face it, when has Finn ever known what he's doing?).

He does what comes naturally to him; he listens to music. He sits for over an hour, scrolling through his varied music playlist in an attempt to pick the perfect song, and stumbles across one that makes him feel sick.

_Take away the sensation inside. Bitter sweet migraine in my head; it's like a throbbing tooth ache of the mind. I can't take this feeling anymore _

He loves Green Day, 'cause everyone knows they fucking rock, but this song makes him want to hurl, and before he knows it, he's staring into his lap, singing pathetically under his breath, '_Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright_.'

It's some kind of wakeup call, he's sure of it. The song is all about wanting drugs to ease the pain (or he thinks so anyway, he's too drained to care), and yeah, not long ago he was feeling the exact same way, which scares the shit out of him.

He's staring at his cowboys in a trance when the next song starts playing into his ears. At first he doesn't recognise it because he's lost track of half the music on his iPod, but it doesn't matter anymore since the words make his whole body freeze, and he's sure that he can't even move his hands.

_A warning sign; I missed the good part then I realized. I started looking and the bubble burst; I started looking for excuses_

He feels a warmth flooding his legs, and before he knows what he's doing, he's scrambling through the crap that's accumulated on his bedroom floor, looking for the damned photo that set him off in Spanish class. His hands shake as he lifts it up 'cause he knows that he's gonna cry again, but he doesn't; he manages a smile.

_When the truth is I miss you. Yeah the truth is that I miss you so_

She's so beautiful, the girl whose name he still can't say. He brushes a finger over her static smile and it's like he's seeing everything a thousand times clearer; he's a fucking idiot.

_And I'm tired; I should not have let you go_

Finn has always wanted to know what an epiphany is (and how to spell it 'cause he has no idea in hell), but he finally knows; it's like he's opened his eyes when he's been squinting all his life.

She cheated on him, and it hurts more than he ever expected, but he's hurt her too, and the Santana incident was her breaking point.

He needs her. He needs the girl with the pretty name and the pretty voice and the pretty face because their short separation was his warning sign; he has to hold onto her.

_So I crawl back into your open arms_

He goes to school on a mission. He knows that he's not perfect, and she's not perfect either, but together they make some semblance of a decent person, and if he isn't willing to fight for what they stand for, then he's a bigger loser than he thought.

But he's worried. He hasn't had any more weird, strangely adorable gifts or momentums and Finn's worried that he's missed his chance; he's worried that he's lost it along with his appetite and his smile and his ability to call her by her name.

He has to try though. He hasn't been able to get her stupid sugar cookies out of his mind, and what he wants, more than anything right now, is for her to make him a fresh batch.

Finn hasn't seen her all morning. He panics when she's not by her locker before class, and he panics when he doesn't see her in the hallway and he panics when he realises that he might _actually_ have missed his only chance.

It's lunch, but for Finn it might as well be another class because he hasn't eaten anything in days, and the last thing he wants is some greasy tots or limp salad. He heads to his locker to drop off his books, and then he sees a crowd of people gathered in the hallway, laughing and shouting at some poor sucker.

Finn hates school. He wants to help the victim, he really does, and it's nothing to do with reputation anymore; his ego is bruised. He'd hoped, rather dumbly, that _she'd_ be by his side by now, talking quickly and loudly about something he isn't interested in, but she's not.

He wonders if she's been in an accident and he feels his stomach drop. Why didn't he think of that sooner? He abandons his locker and decides to bypass the drama to get to Figgins' office, to check if he's heard anything, but over the sea of heads he notices Santana.

His first instinct is to roll his eyes and carry on walking, but then he looks closer, and he sees _her_, and he furrows his brow because there are photos of the two of them all over the place, and people are laughing, and she's crying, and he doesn't know what to do.

Yes he does; of course he does. He's been put in this situation so many times, and every _single_ time he screws up. When it comes down to it, regardless of all the idiots who are enjoying the fight, it's Santana versus _her, _glee club versus _her_, the rest of the world versus _her_, and he has to decide whose side he's on.

"What the hell is going on?" He steps forward, even though his legs are shaking, and he notices the way she starts to crumble; she knows, too, that it's make or break time.

"Nothing _Finn_," Santana slurs, his name rolling off of her tongue like some cheap dirty talk. He doesn't even look at her, because he's finally realised what she is; not worth the effort.

_Yes, I crawl back into your open arms_

"Ra-What happened?" Fuck, he still can't say it, and she notices, because her eyes widen and her lip wobbles and he swears, if she cries any more he's going to be joining her.

"N-nothing, it doesn't, I have to-" She tries to walk away, dropping the photo in her hand, but he finds himself stepping forward, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist lightly. She jumps, and so does he, but she stays (she still doesn't smile, but he can work on that).

"Berry made you a pretty picture," Santana smirks, stepping in front of _her_, trying to steal Finn's attention. "I figured since you're single again that I'd save you the effort of having to look at it."

His eyes flicker across at _her, _and he notices the way she looks at the floor, desperate to be anywhere else. He wonders where the fire has gone, the one that burnt when Santana insulted her last, and he wonders (rather vainly) if he was the fuel.

"Besides, it looked like a Care Bear barfed all over it; you'd think she was three years old or something." She turns on the spot, her Cheerios skirt twirling with the breeze, revealing a lot of bare skin, and Finn feels like he needs to punch something because his eyes go dark and he's suddenly bombarded with every single insult that has been directed at _her_ in the past. He remembers them all, the ones he was there to witness, and he's reminded of how much of a douche he really was, and still is. He can barely see her now, hurt and humiliated, and it's his fault.

It's partly his fault she cheated on him, and he finally understands that.

"Just shut the HELL up Santana!" he roars, and he kind of scares himself with the force that booms out of his throat. He looks once at _her_, then turns his attention back to the Cheerio who somehow manages to appear smug. "I am SICK of you laying into her all the time." He doesn't say her name but it's not that important right now; he just has to make sure he tells Santana _exactly_ how he feels. "I should have said something to you before, so many _fucking_ times, and I didn't, but I'm telling you now." He lifts a finger and points at her angrily, his eyebrows meeting in the middle since he's frowning so hard. "You're a b-bitch."

Yeah, it's certainly not his best moment, and he's pretty sure he could have come up with a better insult, but hell, the adrenaline pumping through his veins makes it totally worth it, and he wonders if he'll be able to stop.

"You're a bitch, and yeah, you're hot, but you know you're hot, and you're really mean, so that negates the hotness." He's flailing like a fish out of water, he's well aware of that, but he doesn't stop. "No, I mean-" He glances back at _her,_ and by some miracle, he can see a small smile pulling on her lips, and he knows that things are gonna be okay, somehow. He looks back at Santana, who's wearing the mother of all scowls, her head moving back and forth in an outraged shimmy. "Yeah, I slept with you, and that was the second biggest mistake of my life. Considering you're the expert, I thought I would have enjoyed it more, but I've had better sex in my wet dreams."

Fuck, he _totally_ doesn't know why he just said that, but he hears a chorus of sniggers behind him, and he sees _her_ giggle to herself out of the corner of his eye, and he feels like one of those frogs that blow up their chests to scare their enemies away; is that his ego coming back?

"Hudson, I dare you to-"

"I haven't finished yet," he snaps. "I want you to apologise to Ra-her." He knows it's a tall order, and to be honest, he doesn't know why he bothers suggesting it. He hopes that she has developed some kind of niceness after being in glee, but he doubts it.

Santana looks at the cardboard in her hands, shakes her head as if dismissing the whole thing, then throws the pieces on the floor. "Sorry Berry, you can have him back; I don't date losers." And she just leaves, along with all the kids who had been hoping for a fist fight.

Finn stares at her as she walks away, though definitely not to admire her butt. He feels like someone just slapped him, but in a totally _good_ way, and he can't believe that he just did that; if reputation mattered to him anymore, his awesome speech would have landed him at the top of the school hierarchy.

But he's not here for that, he's here for _her,_ and he notices her scooping up the photos and random pieces of paper. He bends down to help her and accidentally grazes her hand with his fingers.

_Yes, I crawl back into your open arms_

He expects her to pull away in horror (he expects _himself_ to pull away) but the touch is nice and warm and right.

"What was it?" he manages to ask her. He wonders if he should be scared away by all their happy photos, but he actually finds it quite endearing.

"It... was a collage, a collection of photos and things..." She hesitates and looks at him for a second. "For you."

He doesn't know how to feel about that, but he continues to scoop up the photos. "Did you actually use any glue?" he says jokingly, and he's thankful for the smile that appears on her face. Their hands touch again.

Rachel doesn't know what to do next. She resists throwing herself at him, but should she act eager, grateful, cold?

One thing is for sure; not only does she love him more than ever before, she's never been so physically attracted to him (and she wonders timidly if she features in any of his 'dream sex').

They've retrieved all of the collage, apart from a loose star or two, and he helps her carry the pieces to her locker.

"What was the collage like?" he whispers, because he can tell that she put a lot of effort into whatever it was.

"A rainbow," she replies.

He nods. "I do love rainbows."

They linger by her locker, and he sees his name still tacked to the inside of her door; he gulps because he's a baby, and he wants her, _badly_.

She licks her lips because she's ridiculous, and she wants him, _desperately_.

"Rachel," he says for the first time in days.

Her eyes sparkle. "Finn."

Finn holds out his hand and Rachel takes it without hesitance, and in that small gesture, they both know that they are loved.

"I'd love to see your collage," he whispers, and she nods eagerly.

"You can help me fix it," she looks up at him and panics, "only if you want to though."

They leans towards each other, arms wrapped around shoulders, hands grasping at hands, and neither of them complain when their lips lock and their tongues collide and their breath is mingled. Rachel gasps with shock (in the best way possible) as Finn slings an arm around her shoulder.

"Your second biggest mistake was sleeping with her," she murmurs.

He knows what she wants to hear, and he's more than happy to tell her. "Breaking up with you was my biggest mistake." She beams at him, and he gives her a crooked smile, and there's a lot of healing to be done, but they both know they can do it. They walk to the cafeteria together as Finn's stomach rumbles. He whispers, "I do love rainbows."

_Yes, I crawl back into your open arms_

**A/N: **The songs included in this chapter~

Give Me Novacaine - Green Day

Warning Sign - Coldplay

Well folks, there you have it! I'm hoping it didn't disappoint, and yeah, it was kind of fluffy but I live on this stuff ;) **Thank you** to everyone once more; I honestly didn't expect such amazing feedback!

Thanks again; Finchel fans are the best :')

Rachael x


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